101001
by RubyD
Summary: YST/Matrix crossover. Touma has developed a knack for hacking, but has he gone too far?
1. Default Chapter

  
A few notes: Hello, hello! Another day, another fic. YST/Matrix mini crossover inspired by an unfortunate hacking incident which happened to a friend :/. The movie is great, I loved the psychology and philosophy behind it! You don't have to have seen it to understand the fic, I hope. Continuing on: all characters belong to their respective owners.  
  
  
101001  
By RubyD  
Part One  
  
Hacking, a dangerous occupation. Those who boasted that they could break into anything were nothing more than inflated egos. The real hackers never bragged about cracking large codes or surfing through government databases for some light reading. They never knew when someone might just overhear them talking about it. So they kept quiet.  
  
Hacking, the new frontier. Solve a puzzle and win a prize of knowledge. Solve enough and win a reputation. Solve too many and find yourself on the government's most wanted list for terrorists.  
  
Hacking, Touma's new hobby. A smart boy with nothing to do, not even the homework which he had finished hours earlier out of boredom. Guess what? Nasuti just got a new computer.   
  
You fill in the blanks.  
  
It was late evening. The sky hovered in cool twilight with the sweet scent of dew grass. Crickets and fireflies were just starting to wake to sing and dance for the autumn moon. The stars were out, silent as they ever were.  
  
Inside the mansion, Touma noticed none of this. He sat in the study, air stuffy, with the light from the screen highlighting his passive face. Then a yawn. The rapid but quiet tapping of the keys stopped for a second as he leaned back and stretched.  
  
The Internet. The universe of numbers and codes - a mathematician's dream. The world where what you did, how you looked, or what you ate last breakfast in real life didn't matter. It's all in the presentation and disguise. Sign on, create an identity, and no one would be the wiser. If you knew how to travel the wires, you could go anywhere and be anyone.  
  
Touma did just that. It was a useful talent; he was able to delete from his friends' student records the times they've been absent. He even got a free subscription to Movie House, who sent new releases to him twice every month. But those were small stuff - hardly a challenge. Tonight, he was trying to crack into government files.  
  
After shaking the single empty soda can in disappointment, the teen continued. He had long since disabled the Cookie installed on Nasuti's hard drive. He surfed freely and without worry, having put in an undetectable connection.  
  
Well, he hoped it was undetectable.  
  
*Warning: If you do not have the correct password in 10 seconds, you will be disconnected.*  
  
A flurry of tapping. Password solved. Next level of protection? Broken through. Even more codes . . . all cracked.  
  
The files took time to get to, but he did it. Surprisingly not too hard. He scanned through the dry military reports and mediocre documents. Although interestingly enough, there were a few documents about the 'unusual phenomenon' that occurred in Japan. Five robotic suits sent from possible terrorists?  
  
iPlease,/i thought Touma. Then an unexpected turn - of all the files, he couldn't get into one. It was protected by yet several more levels deeply buried in techo-jargon. Squinting at it in interest, he began to decipher the levels.  
  
Suddenly a message appeared.  
  
*MouX83: Yo, Byrd, what's up?  
  
Touma lurched backwards, almost tipping the chair over, thinking for a moment that it was a government message. Reading it he sighed, recognizing it as one of his fellow hackers. The click of keys.  
  
*BluByrd: Hi Mouse. Busy hacking the Gov. You scared me for a moment.  
  
*MouX83: Sorry, man. Any problems?  
  
*BluByrd: None so far, I'm just stuck at this one file.  
  
*MouX83: Have you used your C-Access?  
  
*BluByrd: Didn't work. Neither did the Random. I'll figure it out - it's not that hard.  
  
*MouX83: How long have you been on? Better hurry.  
  
*BluByrd: Shit, gotta crack before they ride me! Gtg!  
  
A 'ride' meant a trace. A small timer had appeared in the lower left corner of the screen, counting down thirty seconds. *Tracing connection . . . *  
  
He kept himself from panicking by typing furiously. Ten seconds later he was in, but the timer was still ticking. In the folder was a simple text document, only under 200 KB. What was in this that would have so many buffers around it?  
  
Another message blinked on.  
  
*Download Text File: M. Y/N?*  
  
Seventeen seconds. Y! Touma punched in, getting ready to pull the connection.  
  
*Downloading: 24%*  
  
Thirteen. Hurry up, damn it!  
  
*Downloading: 76%*  
  
Nine! Move!  
  
*Downloading Text File: M . . .  
  
*Saved.*  
  
*Do you want to check the file for viruses before disconnecting? Y/N?*  
  
N!!  
  
Touma cut the phone line with four seconds to spare. He sighed, resting his forehead on the cool table counter. Safe.  
  
Rubbing tired shoulders, he decided to go get a can of pop from the kitchen before looking at the file. Feet gently padded out the door and down the stairs. The house creaked as it settled and he found the light on.  
  
"Seiji?" he asked, finding him making a bowl of cereal. "What are you doing up?"  
  
"I could ask the same of you," Seiji responded. "Just eating breakfast."  
  
"Ah. At four in the morning?" Touma opened the fridge and took out a cold root beer. It snapped open with a hiss of escaping gas.  
  
"And then I ask," he said, pointing with his spoon, "what are *you* doing out of bed?"  
  
"Working on a project - nothing big." He hadn't really told any of his friends about his new hobby. It was something he felt that he should keep to himself.  
  
"Must be. You've been up all night a lot."  
  
"So have you."  
  
"I have my own project."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
The phone on the wall rang before he could get an answer. Who would call so early? Seiji stood and got it on the second ring.  
  
"Hello, this is the Yagyu residence," he said with his usual politeness. The blond frowned, and handed the receiver out to Touma. "I think it's for you."  
  
Curious, the teen took it, sipping at the can. "Moshi moshi?"  
  
"Hello, Byrd," greeted the male voice.  
  
He choked on the drink and slammed it down on the counter. "Who?" he coughed.  
  
"This is Mouse."  
  
"Mouse?!"  
  
"Turn around." He turned, and two men in suits suddenly burst through the kitchen door. They looked like government officials, dark glasses and all.   
  
"What the Hell-?"  
  
The men grabbed hold of the struggling Seiji, cupping his mouth so he wouldn't scream. His shocked violet eyes glazed over and closed as one of them emptied a needle of yellow liquid into his neck. They dragged the boy out.  
  
"Hey, let go of him!" Touma shouted, dropping the phone and running after the men. Not paying heed to the chair in his way, he tripped and fell . . .  
  
. . . And woke up, once again in front of his computer. He blinked in confusion, realizing where he was. A dream? Had it been a dream? Touma looked out the window, seeing that it was almost dawn. Weird. He must have fallen asleep right after downloading the file.   
  
He sat there for a moment, debating on what to do.  
  
Uncertainly, Touma stood and crept out into the hall. He opened the door of his and Seiji's room, squinting at the beds. Seiji was there, quietly sleeping and not at all looking like he had awakened during the night. The covers rose and fell with each calm breath. Feeling stupid, he shook off the paranoia and shuffled back to the study.  
  
He slumped into the chair. Time to take a look at that file. What could be in it? Sitting around wouldn't achieve anything. With a click, he opened it.  
  
The text opened and Touma blinked in surprise. The whole text - it was nothing but gibberish and symbols. Could he have made a mistake in the downloading? He checked and saw no error that could have occurred. It really was just a file of nonsense.  
  
He scrolled down the document in defeat, thinking he had been on a wild goose chase. Then he stopped. In the middle of the gibberish were two words:  
  
The Matrix.  
  
iThe Matrix?/i he frowned. iWhat's that?/i  
  
Then, the file began to disintegrate in front of his eyes as if something was eating away at it. It was followed by a loud and startling beep. The screen crashed, spiraling the room into darkness.  
  
Damn, a virus. He must have downloaded a virus.  
  
A single line of green appeared in the field of black.  
  
*The Matrix.*  
  
It winked once, twice, then flickered off.  
  
Touma reached out to touch the screen, but froze.  
  
There were two cans of soda next to the computer.  
  
  
To Be Continued  
  
So what did you think of the first installment? Does it call for another part? Feedback would be highly appreciated.  
  



	2. Part Two

Usual disclaimers.   
Thanks to Nicky and TK.  
  
101001  
By RubyD  
Part Two  
  
Two cans where there should have been one. He swore there was only supposed to be one. The once-motionless hand reached out and lifted the second, impossible can. It was heavy, still full, but with only a few sips taken out of it. The beads of water on the metal and under his fingers told him that it had been there for a while. He put it back down with a click.  
  
Touma hated that feeling, hairs prickling at the nape of the neck as a cold shiver washed its way through the chest and spine. Sitting alone in the dark while staring into the shadows out the window, wondering if anything was looking back. Was the pale flickering of florescent insects simply that or could it have been a flash of light reflected in someone's eyes? Overcoming paralysis, he shoved away from the cooling hard drive and ran out into the hall, his feet padding quietly but quickly on the soft carpet.  
  
Situations always seemed more frightening when he ran. It meant he had to be running away from something, a realization at the heels that he didn't want to find out about. So he didn't look back. You never looked back. Some things just weren't confronted during the night. Touma slipped into his room and into the bed, feeling maddeningly safe under the covers. Across the room, Seiji still slept.  
  
'There's an explanation,' he thought rationally with the blankets pulled over his head. 'I'm tired. I had a memory lapse.' Funny how perspective changes once that shield of mighty cotton separated him from the dangers outside. His mind went back to the dream, and eyes behind sunglasses watched him. Touma shivered. That couldn't have been real.  
  
Feeling slightly childish he lowered the sheets around his face and peeked at Seiji. His friend's untroubled face cradled by moonlight calmed him somewhat, and eventually managed to dispel his worries and surreal sensation. He was overreacting, simple as that. Maybe he was sick.  
  
Viruses.   
  
It had been a virus in the computer, right? Of course. Must be. And Touma actually had two cans of root beer, not one. He wasn't going insane. Still thirsty, but not enough to walk downstairs. It was dark, and stuff. He sighed, feeling better at those thoughts.   
  
So what now? Sleep, his body ordered. Sleep, good. He shifted in bed until he could see the red numbers of the clock hovering on the shelf. It glowed dully - out of place among the greenish darkness. Half past four, the ruby beacon silently announced. Far later than he would have normally stayed up. Damn, he was going to be tired tomorrow.   
  
With another sigh, one of true exhaustion, he rolled over and surrendered to sleep and dreams.  
  
*  
  
Ouch. Light bright.   
  
Brr. Feet, cold.  
  
Ugh, mouth taste BAD.  
  
A sniff. Ooh, food. Touma staggered into the kitchen around lunchtime doing his best impression of the living dead. With head lulled to the side in a sour expression, gray shirt wrinkled to the point of no return, and feet wincing with each step on the chilly tiles he grunted a hello. He had slept well and without disruption, but waking up with only seven hours under his belt was an amazing feat  
  
"What's with the zombie face?" Nasuti chided as she cooked beef to go with fried rice. It sizzled and sputtered in greasy goodness on the pan. She had been wondering when the Trooper was going to get up, and if he hadn't awaken before noon she would have personally pitched a water bucket over that blue head. Whatever he was working on at the computer better finish soon.  
  
Touma leaned over the stove with hungry eyes and said in garbled just-woke-up-speak, "Mmrg, bhrems." Which could be translated into, "Mmm, brains." He proceeded to poke his finger in interest into a cooling bowl of meat next to the oven. Hot, hot. Nasuti rapped a spoon on his knuckles and he jerked the hand back, rubbing them in hurt dignity.  
  
"No. And don't look at me that way," she said at his begging puppy show, lips pouting and innocent gaze. "Wash up first. Go, be hygienic, and brush."  
  
"Yeah, sure," he yawned, put back, but it came out more like a "Yagh, sirm."  
  
"Ick, definitely brush."  
  
He favored her with another lame look, then cheerfully smiled. He could only carry the sleepy-grumpy, caffeine-hangover mind set so far. "Where are the others?" Touma asked, more civilly.  
  
"Doing whatever you men do during the hot summer days."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"I have no clue, but try looking outside. I think they're playing football."  
  
"Aa," he answered, pondering. Messy, sweaty, pseudo-violence in the baking midday sun where grass stains were a fashionable "hell yeah"? He'd join later. But now, the teen glanced at the bowl again, fingers twitching. "Can't I have one piece?"  
  
"No, not until - " she started when he made his move. "Hey!"  
  
Touma managed to grab a chunk from the bowl and claimed it through the virtue of spit by stuffing it into his mouth. Lips opened again and frantically sucked in air as the fresh heat met his tongue. "Ah, hot!" Really hot! He alternated between chewing and breathing before the temperature settled somewhere between scalding and not-as-scalding. Then he swallowed, tongue happy but still smarting.  
  
Nasuti laughed good-naturally. "Serves you right, thief. Get some cold water." With that said, she shoved him towards the general direction of the bathroom, silver spoon held like a weapon in her palm. He gladly went, grinning at himself on the way. Touma detoured back to his room to get a change of clothing, and with jeans and black T-shirt in hand he entered the bathroom.   
  
The bathroom. Stop and gawk. His punishment for being the last person of the day to use it was to suffer at the messy sight of it. Water and leftover towels were strewn all over the floor (courtesy of Ryo and Shu), hairy combs and strands in the sink (Shin's and Seiji's), and a mauled ducky slumped sadly in the corner with yellow chunks taken out of its tender rubber hide (Byakuen). Ignoring it all, he undressed and got into the shower.  
  
As the first jet stream of warmth hit him, he thought about what had happened to the computer last night. Touma was worried that the government might have hid some kind of tracking device in the file that could connect to the modem and find out where and who he was. Spy-tech, basically, and surprisingly not too hard to use. And if he were ever caught . . .   
  
"That'd be bad," he murmured. They would lock him up for a good long while. No excuses about saving the world and such.  
  
He gave a distinct yelp as the water turned ice cold. Leaping out of the shower for a moment he could hear Nasuti's distant voice call out a "Sorry!" She must have turned on the hot water faucet in the kitchen. She had done it on purpose, he bet. Nasuti had a better sense of payback than he gave her credit for. Touma shook his head with a little grumble. Probably had shut off the main hot valve in the basement for a second, instead of using the sink, come to think of it.  
  
He tested the shower with his hand until the temperature returned to something he could handle. By the time he finished, most of the hot water had been used up. Touma doubted anyone needed it at that moment. Maybe he'd check the computer later.  
  
Viruses.   
  
A blank screen, yet words had typed themselves up.  
  
Could a virus do that? Whatever it was, hopefully it hadn't damaged the computer main frame. Very weird night . . . The Matrix, maybe it was a code-name for something? A project? But no one would simply give the name and not any of the details after all that protection. And why would anyone place a hidden bug in a document full of nothing when there was no point? Unless there was a very clear point that he just missed completely . . .   
  
So very weird. Maybe it was actually important. Or maybe it was the government's own joke for paranoid hackers. Maybe -   
  
He banished the train of thought, not wanting to dwell on the endless possibilities. A pale towel slipped off the rack opposite the sink to join its brothers on the sopping floor.  
  
Frowning, he wiped at the wall mirror right above the sink. Most of the steam had lifted, but it still looked foggy. The mint-green wallpaper didn't help much with the light. With the other hand he smoothed back his hair, going for a rough-yet-presentable look in the reflection. Then a wide, pearly, I-am-innocent smile. No. It made him look . . . almost malicious, really. It was that smile, too much teeth. And they needed cleaning. He turned it into a smirk of the I-know-something-you-don't-so-bug-off kind. Better.  
  
He stood there making faces at himself for the next minutes while trying to brush. Shy smile, smug quirk of the lips, then a fish pucker covered in foam. Hair flopped forwards, then back again and then everywhere. Good God he needed a trim, and all that Net time had turned the normally bright blue into a subdued shade of turquoise. Ah, the burden of being anti-social, sorta. Sun, what sun? At least he could stare at stars. He winked at himself.  
  
Once more, he wiped at the mirror, finding it smooth and dry. Huh. It seemed kind of off and his image fuzzy. Then in the reflection Touma saw the white towel on the rack behind him slip precariously along gravity then fall off with a gentle swoosh of cloth. When he turned to pick it up, he paused and blinked. Déjà vu.   
  
Hadn't the exact thing happened earlier with another one? He looked around the floor and found it was the only white towel on the ground, and the others were dark blue or maroon. Man, did the bathroom clash.  
  
Whatever. The teen also grabbed the shirt and jeans next to it and put them on. He used the towel to dry off the sink and run it through his damp hair a couple of times. Back in clean clothes, hair combed, and teeth brushed, Touma walked out ready for lunch, as his stomach was telling him.  
  
He entered the kitchen in the middle of a fierce battle.  
  
"You and Ryo cheated," accused Shu as the four Troopers and Nasuti began passing around food.  
  
"We did not," Shin answered simply. He grinned. "We're just the better team."  
  
"Then how did that wet patch of grass show up after a whole day of dry weather? It was dry everywhere else!"  
  
An innocent face. "You just don't want to admit that you fumbled."  
  
"Feh . . . "  
  
"Good afternoon, Touma," Seiji greeted as his friend sat down. He passed a bowl of rice over.  
  
Touma perked up, piling food on his plate. "Morning, by my standards. How was the game?"  
  
"Ryo and Shin won. Shu's in denial."  
  
"I am not!" he interjected.  
  
"You got a letter today," said Nasuti. She sat down opposite of him and handed the hacker a letter. "At least, I think it's for you. Lucky day?" The enveloped was a deep, oddly resounding red color that left ghostly after-images in Touma's vision. Without any postage or address, the simple typed font read: BluByrd.   
  
To Be Continued  



End file.
